Move In, Normandy Snowstorm

The most discouraging days were during the first. Texas winter days didn’t prepare us for the first, long, cold Norman winter. Now we love it.

Feb., 8 2007

Again, please forgive the package this information comes in. Thanks to many of you for writing and please forgive our tardy responses; Internet cafe’s are becoming rarer and our available time is short. However, we have moved in now. What follows is the move-in experience. Enjoy … Mark

Jan. 31, Wednesday

9 a.m.: Fixed the power failure in the chateau for the eighth time. The pump beneath the house that vents the springs overloaded the circuits. The owner had forgotten about it. The heat is off when the power is off. We’ve been staying in a virtually empty, cold, drafty chateau and working daily on our future quarters in the gatehouse. We set out to Caen, about an hour away, and shop for house wares. Neighbors tell us snow is predicted.

11:23 a.m.: We abort the trip to Caen midway in route. Falling snow is very heavy.

2:33 p.m.: We finish lunch in a small village not far from our house; the snow is 6 inches deep and Normandy never looked more beautiful.

Feb. 1, Thursday

8:30 a.m.: We awake to a crystal fairyland. The ducks want to be fed. I begin to photograph the fairyland.

9:03 a.m.: The movers call to say they are one hour away trapped in a traffic barrier. We panic and say “Didn’t you read the weather reports? We don’t even get TV, radio or newspapers and we had heard the snow was coming.” They want us to put up the drivers/loaders up in a hotel until the weather changes, or rent a van to shuttle our things from the large trucks. We are mad and happy.

11:35 a.m.: We find the movers in two trucks blocking the country road, which turns off onto the one-lane road going to the chateau. They are not happy. They are also making the locals who are trying to use the road not happy. We agree to rent the shuttle van.

2 p.m.: The first shuttle load arrives. Two obese men with stomachs extending further than their arms get out of the van along with another one who reeks of tobacco. Two are over 40 and the last is over 50 in age. We all begin unloading and we don’t stop.

6:30 p.m.: The last van load for the night is emptied. We are not halfway finished. My feet have blisters from hauling book boxes up to the third floor, but I’m dragging behind the fat men.

7 p.m.: The young Dutch couple living in the one-room stone house with no electricity feel sorrow for us, and invite Sandi and I to dinner, but Sandi is too exhausted to go. I enjoy carrot and potato mush in candlelight along with a 3-year-old who likes to practice her lion roar.

9 p.m.: I return home to find Sandi is sick; she throws up several times in the night.

Feb. 2, Friday

8:30 a.m.: First van load arrives. The temperature is 13 below zero Centigrade. The water pipes in the house are frozen. Sandi has recovered enough to direct the action.

2 p.m.: The last load is unloaded. The fat men take no breaks. They will drive back to Antwerp that night, but they want me to go pay for the van, so I follow them to the rental place. Sandi is too weak to go.

2:30 p.m.: The truck rental agency employee, while accepting the van back, makes small talk, which is all I can do with my French. I ask him how often it snows like that. He replied,” This deep snow is very, very rare. You are really lucky.” I go home and go to bed.

Feb. 3, Saturday

9 a.m.: Sandi and I look over the mountains of boxes and decide we have errands to do in town, and we both leave for the day.